


The Melancholy of Tendou Satori

by SpectrumArcadia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Ushijima is a good boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectrumArcadia/pseuds/SpectrumArcadia
Summary: He can't speak at all now, the lump in his throat is too big. He won't sound like himself, he'd sound weak, emotional. And however accurate that may be right now, it's not who Tendou Satori is. He's not emotional, he's not serious- he's fun, he's an enigma, he's a monster, a mystery, unshakable, unfeeling.





	

He’s running, but the ground sticks to the bottoms of his bare feet, it clings, it slows him down. Hands grip at his clothes, trying to yank him down, trip him up. It's terrifying but it's also absurd-- nobody should be grabbing his shirt collar like this, he's too damn tall. Still, they come from the darkness, shoving down his shoulders, voices muttering ‘ _Quit running, freak_ -‘. He tries to yell, to scream at them to fuck off, to stop, but his voice is only a hoarse whisper. Frustration overwhelms him like a wave, throws him off his feet and he tumbles to the ground violently.

 

Tendou Satori jolts awake for the 4th night in a row, shirt clinging to sweaty skin, voice stuck in his throat.

 

The nightmares are getting worse. He barely remembers them; just the sick hopelessness he is left with afterwards. The clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 2:14am. His roommate’s soft snores fill the quiet air. The moon isn’t out, but the yellow lights outside the student dorms cast a sickly glow on the curtains. Still too bright for him.

 

Satori hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep these days, so he thinks it might actually be a good thing the third years don’t have practice anymore.

 

It doesn’t _feel_ like a good thing.

It feels like a death sentence.

It feels like… it’s really over.

 

Before Shiratorizawa, before Wakatoshi and Reon and Eita and Hayato, Satori’s life was frustrating. Childhood memories filled with boring, irrelevant people and an endless chorus of ‘why’s— ‘ _Why do you like those weird things?’ ‘Why do you talk like that?’ ‘Why are you always humming?’ ‘Why do you look like that?’ ‘Why are you so quiet?’ ‘Why are you so loud?’_

Why why why why- _why_ the hell did anyone even pretend to care? The questions are inherently selfish; he didn’t have friends, nobody actually cared why. They just wanted to call attention to the fact that he was weird. That he wasn’t like anybody else.

 

Well _why_ the fuck would he want to be.

 

Shiratorizawa never asked why. His team sees him for who he is and don’t question anything. He stands tall on his own two feet. He feels confident, alive, and _free_.

 

But now the ball and chain are back around his ankle, weighing him to the earth. Even more than that- it feels heavier now, dragging him down, down, through the dirt, through water and fire and surely the next stop is hell itself— do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

 

Satori kicks off his blanket as he hears Eita’s voice in his head, “Oh the drama”. He almost agrees. His life isn’t over just because he’s graduating. But it might as well be because he’ll never get to play another volleyball game with Wakatoshi.

 

He has to move, has to go outside and get some fresh air. He doesn't bother with shoes, can't stand being in his room for another second. His bare feet carry him out into the cool night air, along the path, past door after door, all the way to room 37- one of the singles. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

 

Why is he here?

 

Because his friend is here, now, and in 3 weeks who knows where either of them will be.

 

He knocks softly.

 

Satori doesn't know why he does it. He doesn’t have a plan or anything to say if Wakatoshi actually heard the soft sound and decides to get up. He just feels so horrible— a dark storm brewing in his chest, ball and chain around his ankle, university, adulthood, isolation. He’ll never be free to fly again. He's afraid of his own thoughts, doesn't want them to fester and grow, latch onto his spine and weigh him down like the nightmares. Heavy and dark and all consuming, it’s _suffocating_ , he doesn’t want to _be_ like this.

 

Ushijima doesn't open the door. Satori doesn't want to purposefully wake him with no explanation so he doesn't knock again. He just stands there in the still, eerie light of the hall.

He doesn't want to be alone. His best friend is _right there_ in his dorm room. Wakatoshi would probably inform him that it was “very late” and stand there waiting for an explanation. Things would get awkward quickly without one, but he would let Satori in anyways. Maybe Wakatoshi's warm welcoming space could loosen Satori’s tongue.

 

A shiver runs down Satori's spine and he looks down at his bare feet on the concrete. It's cold. He should go back to his room and read through the latest Jump under the covers until he passed out again. He should go back and get shoes, maybe take a stroll around campus. Something, _anything_ to distract him from this. But he doesn't want to be alone. He doesn’t want to be around his roommate. He wants to be around Wakatoshi, which is why he's still standing outside his door. 

 

Satori hears one of the entrances to the first or second floor dorms fall shut and wonders who else is breaking curfew this close to finals.

 

Why is he still here? Wakatoshi is asleep. He's not getting up. Satori won’t wake him up. So why can’t he bring himself to leave?

 

…Great, now the ' _why_ 's have invaded his own brain. Wakatoshi wouldn't ask why. Ushijima Wakatoshi never asks why.

 

That’s why Satori is here.

 

He knocks again, the tremors in his hand giving more urgency to the sound than he would have liked.

 

' _Go back to your room, freak_.'  The voice in his head is mean now, not one of his friends, so he doesn't listen. Tendou pushes his hair back from his face only to look down at his feet and have it fall again, strands brushing against his cheeks.

 

The door opens. He stares at Ushijima's square toes.

 

"It is late." Wakatoshi's deep voice is even rougher than usual from sleep. Satori almost feels bad, but the other is stepping aside, holding the door open for him. “ _You are welcome here anyways_ ,” the motion says.

 

Satori wants to cry. Instead he steps inside. Wakatoshi closes the door behind him and turns on a small lamp near the bed, where Satori takes a seat.

 

"Don't-" A small unwanted protest leaves Satori's lips and Wakatoshi pauses before turning off the lamp and leaving them in the dark.

Tendou had thought that being inside, being near his best friend, would make it easier to speak, to explain himself. But his words seem to be locked up even tighter- he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know how to be serious without being _too_ serious. It's not as if anything is actually wrong with him after all. He isn't hurt, he isn't dying any faster than anyone else, he can't even remember his nightmares. He has no good reason to be here, waking his friend up at nearly 3am.

 

Yet here he is.

He can't speak at all now, the lump in his throat is too big. He won't sound like himself, he'd sound weak, emotional. And however accurate that may be right now, it's not who Tendou Satori is. He's not emotional, he's not serious- he's fun, he's an enigma, he's a monster, a mystery, unshakable, unfeeling.

His lips curl into a bitter smile.

 

It's when Wakatoshi's strong, gentle arms wrap around his shoulders, and his face is pressed into his best friend's broad chest that Satori realizes he's already crying. And Ushijima Wakatoshi, true to form, does not ask why.

 

A shudder runs up Satori's spine and comes out of his mouth a wet sob. His fingers cling to Wakatoshi's sleep shirt as he presses his face against his friend's chest. He is held, firm and warm and it feels so terrible but so fucking good all at once. Breaking down in Wakatoshi’s unwavering arms, Satori is struck with just how much he trusts the other boy. Trusts him to be there- stable and strong and consistent. Trusts him to never breathe a word about this to anyone. Most of all Satori trusts Wakatoshi with himself- his whole self, even the broken pieces.

He shakes, trying to calm down.  Mortified at his emotional implosion, he's embarrassed and low key wants to die, but ultimately- as Wakatoshi brushes the hair from his face and hands him a tissue- he's glad he woke the other up.

 

He wants to apologize but doesn't. Wakatoshi wouldn't want to hear it anyways.

 

Ushijima sits back down on his bed. Slowly, he lays down, an arm around Satori to ensure he goes with. It's quiet. Peaceful. Satori is able to breathe, even though he still clings to the front of his friend's shirt. He feels lighter, listens to Wakatoshi’s steady heartbeat.

 

Shockingly, it’s not Satori who breaks their silence.

 

"Your tears are nothing compared to your strength." It's soft, Wakatoshi's low rumble into Satori's hair. It shakes him. Something about it doesn't feel like Wakatoshi's words.

 

Wrapping his arms tightly around his friend, Tendou wonders if those are the words of Wakatoshi's father, said to a small, strong beansprout upset at his departure.

 

Satori's heart aches. He smiles. Decides it's time to open his mouth again.

 

"-And my strength is nothing compared to yours, miracle boy."

 

Ushijima holds him tighter. Tendou loves him with his entire monstrous heart.

**Author's Note:**

> a huge THANK YOU to Bendy, Amanda, Amber and Kat, who helped me with editing and encouragement :'>


End file.
